


vernal

by lightgetsin



Category: The O.C.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-22
Updated: 2003-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightgetsin/pseuds/lightgetsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s perfectly understandable,” Kirsten said. “Your life has changed a lot in a really short time. You’re still getting used to everything.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	vernal

Julie rarely found herself sharing silent communication with Kirsten. But when it happened, they were pretty smart. About twenty seconds after Caleb strode onto the Cohens’ back patio, arm in arm with a tall, statuesque, artificially perfect blond (“This is Angelique, Kiki—she does therapeutic massage”) they locked eyes over Sandy’s head and simultaneously mouthed, “margaritas!”

“Why did you invite him?” Julie asked, ducking into the house behind her and heading straight for the mountain of ice the caterers had brought.

“I didn’t,” Kirsten said, going for the blender with a single minded focus that Julie really had to admire. “Sandy mentioned we were having a little get together when he came to pick me up on Friday and dad overheard it and there you have it.”

“Can I have an extra shot in mine?” Julie asked.

“You read my mind.”

They leaned at opposite ends of the island and raised their frosty glasses in a toast.

“To fathers who need to grow up.”

“To twenty-five year old massage specialists.”

“Do you really think that’s what she does?” Kirsten asked, taking a long sip and sighing.

“Probably,” Julie said, “but I bet that’s not all she does.”

“I really need to stop giving parties,” Kirsten said. “I mean, really. Half the people out there can’t stand the other half and we all know it. And yet we’re all surprised every single time one of these things goes up in flames.”

“It was lovely a few minutes ago,” Julie said, casting an envious eye through the windows to the backyard, over the playful, springtime decorations, the elegant spread of fruit and salad, the clusters of bathing suited guests. Once again, Kirsten Cohen had put together a perfect party without even seeming to think about it.

“I was trying to prove something to myself,” Kirsten said, doing some serious work on her margarita. “We have this thing about holidays in this house—“

“It’s not just you,” Julie said.

“Good,” Kirsten said. “At least we’re not the only ones. I just wanted to prove that we could celebrate a holiday, if admittedly a very minor one, without someone getting punched or shot or arrested or—“

“What holiday?” Julie asked blankly.

“The first day of spring,” Kirsten said. “The vernal equinox. Day and night are exactly the same length today, and it’s supposed to be a time of renewal and rebirth.” She drained her glass then sighed. “I was trying to go for stealth. An unnoticed holiday, you know? Sort of under the radar.”

“Well,” Julie said, looking outside again, “no one’s dialing 9-1-1 yet.”

“Don’t say that,” Kirsten said, reaching for the margarita mix and the blender. “You’ll jinx it.”

Halfway through the second round Julie felt the sharp edges of her temper softening a little. Not much, but she no longer had the urge to grab the melon baller from the counter and try and gut…hmm. There was a pretty substantial list of people in Kirsten’s backyard she could happily mutilate right now. Should she worry about that? No, probably not. Everyone else really should, though.

“Twenty-five,” Kirsten muttered irritably. “His youngest daughter is twenty-five. It’s embarrassing, it really is.”

Julie scowled, then made a conscious effort to smooth the expression off her face. Her mother’s voice echoed hollowly, reflexively, “don’t scowl, Julie, your face will wrinkle up and you’ll be ugly and no man will want to marry you.” She had a sudden, vivid moment of recollection, the silky feel of the lipstick on her mouth, the whisper of Maryanne’s breath on her cheek as they leaned close to the mirror together in a dingy, Riverside High bathroom. “You should always smile like this,” Maryanne said. “You have such a beautiful smile.”

“Don’t remind me,” Julie said.

“Well, believe it or not, I’d rather he were with you than her,” Kirsten said, tilting her glass towards the windows where Miss twenty-five year old magic fingers was ostentatiously stripping off her shirt and adjusting her bikini top. There was no way those were entirely natural.

“Huh,” Julie said. “Can’t really say the same. I’ve decided he’s too much effort, not enough pay off.”

Kirsten shot her one of those looks, one of the slightly offended princess perfect squints that always made Julie want to slap her. Or be her. “It’s just,” Kirsten said carefully, “it’s just I thought he was happy with you. For a little while, I mean. You…you made him notice you. You made him get really involved. No one’s done that since…” she trailed off, but Julie could fill in the blanks herself. Since the great saint Ashley Nickel died.

“You know, he has a picture of her on his nightstand,” Julie said suddenly. “Your mom. You look a lot like her.”

Kirsten actually blushed, and ducked her head a little. “I always thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Dad did, too. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” Julie said, looking away. “It was more than a little intimidating.”

“Oh,” Kirsten said understandingly. “I guess, yeah, that would be a bit, uh, uncomfortable.”

“It was,” Julie said, then sealed her lips tight over anything else. A senior prom photo really wasn’t the thing she wanted to talk about right now. To think about, ever, when she got right down to it.

“Julie?” Kirsten said suddenly.

“What?”

“Are you happy?”

Julie blinked at her, taken aback. She hated it when Kirsten did this, said things like she really cared when Julie knew full well Kirsten had to hate her guts. She had to. There was no way she could—not even Kirsten was that nice.

“Happy?” Julie repeated. “Well, yes, sure.” What wasn’t there to be happy about? She was divorced, poor, and fucking a minor whose sandwich crusts she used to cut off when he ate lunch over at the house. God, he was a good lay. Best she’d had in years, which, considering the two men who had been in her bed within the past decade, really wasn’t saying much. When he was inside her, gasping and panting and slack-jawed, staring at her like she was a goddess…well, she didn’t worry about wrinkles then.

“Okay,” Kirsten said, sipping her margarita more slowly. “It’s just, I was a little surprised when you and dad got together. I mean,” she continued hastily, off Julie’s look, “aside from the you and dad part. It was just that it hadn’t been that long since you and Jimmy, and I worried that maybe you were going too fast. God, that’s not what I meant, but…”

“No, I get it,” Julie said. “You thought I was just going from one man to another.”

“Julie—“

“Well, you were right. I did. Caleb and I started seeing each other four days after I signed the papers. We ran into each other at that Italian place by the peer and well, he couldn’t keep his eyes off me.”

“Okay,” Kirsten said. “You really don’t need to tell me the details. Really.”

“It was stupid,” Julie said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. The last thing I wanted was another man around. I’m so tired of—“ she stopped the sentence with a long swallow, then licked the salt from the rim of her glass. Fuck being ladylike.

“Men?” Kirsten finished, lifting an eyebrow.

Julie glanced reflexively out the window to where Luke sat at the edge of the pool, feet dangling, the hot afternoon sun glistening off his damp skin. She jerked her eyes hastily away, hoping Kirsten hadn’t noticed. She was wondering, more and more lately, if feeling like a goddess was worth all of this. And what was Kirsten doing nodding sympathetically and patting her hand? Kirsten had the fucking real thing, the one in a million, the marriage that got better with time, more interesting, more intense, that didn’t get tired and bored and a little scared because surely there was more to it, surely being happy was…happier, surely this was what she had always dreamed of.

“It’s perfectly understandable,” Kirsten said. “You’re life has changed a lot in a really short time. You’re still getting used to everything.”

“Jury’s still out, you mean,” Julie said, and emptied her glass. “I can’t tell you if I’m happier now or utterly miserable.”

“Well, let me know when you—hey, Seth.” Kirsten straightened up, smiling as Cohen junior ducked in from the patio. “Where’re you going?”

“Upstairs,” he said, looking like a cornered rabbit. “I’ve got to do someone—something, uh find something.”

“Should you be leaving your guests alone?” Kirsten asked sweetly. “Summer might get bored.”

“Yeah, we’re working on that,” Seth said, and out of the corner of her eye Julie saw Kirsten’s eyebrows shoot up. “Anyway, very urgent, gotta go, see ya.”

“What do you want to bet Summer comes through here in the next five minutes,” Julie said, as Seth scurried past. She did a quick, surreptitious ass check and was relieved when all it produced was a cattie mental observation on his choice of swim wear. So she wasn’t a complete deviant.

“No bet,” Kirsten said, contemplating the margarita mix. “I wonder how long I should give them before I go noisily climbing the stairs.”

“Kids,” Julie said succinctly.

“Mmm,” Kirsten agreed. They looked at each other, and had another instantaneous moment of communication. More margaritas it was.

“It’s a little weird thinking about it,” Kirsten said after she turned off the blender. “Seth. Having…sex. I mean, it’s not like I don’t remember being a teenager, and I turned out alright, but…”

“Do you ever wish you were young again?” Julie asked suddenly, leaning harder into the counter as the buzz settled in for the long haul. “Going back, maybe not knowing everything you know now, but still having the chance to do things differently?”

“No,” Kirsten said immediately, without thought.

“No,” Julie said, sighing. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

“I take it you do?” Kirsten asked carefully.

Julie shrugged. “I can’t honestly complain. Considering everything, I’ve done really well for myself.” She thought of her mother’s face when she’d first seen the house, of her sly, conspiratorial congratulations when a blue plus sign on a little plastic stick morphed almost instantly into a diamond ring.

“But you wouldn’t mind going back, doing it again?”

“Oh, forget about it,” Julie said, reflexively twisting a non-existent wedding ring. “It’s just one of those things. You know, when you realize how old you’re getting and all of a sudden you can’t stop comparing yourself to…yourself.”

“Or your sister,” Kirsten said.

Julie filed that little tidbit away for future reference and consciously knotted her hands together, stilling her restless fingers.

The patio door opened and Marissa and Summer came in, arm in arm.

“Mrs. Cohen, Mrs. Cooper,” Summer said, the relative warmth of her voice dropping twenty degrees halfway through the greeting.

“Hi sweetheart, Summer,” Julie returned. Marissa gave her a quick, tight, completely insincere smile, and Summer’s eyes narrowed down to slits.

“Are you leaving already, girls?” Kirsten asked solicitously.

“Just me,” Marissa said, hunching her shoulders in a very unattractive way. “I just, uh, the sun’s getting a bit much for me.”

“If you’re sure,” Kirsten said, shooting one quick, concerned look out the windows to where Ryan and Luke were playfully batting a ball back and forth in the pool. Julie gritted her teeth. She could have told Marissa that would end badly. Had, in fact, multiple times. Guys like that just weren’t suited for girls like Marissa, girls who had grown up getting everything they ever wanted and more. Julie looked away from her daughter, feeling an ugly, resentful word bubbling to the surface of her brain, not for the first time. Nothing like having your own daughter throw away everything you ever wanted and worked so hard for. She’d given her daughters everything she’d never had. At least Caitlyn still appreciated it.

“I was just walking Coop out,” Summer said, shifting in front of Marissa like a pitbull in designer swimwear.

“Are you going to need a ride anywhere?” Kirsten asked.

“Dad and I came separately,” Marissa said, pulling her keys from the pocket of her shorts. “I’ll be fine.”

“Drink some water if you feel lightheaded,” Julie said, not to be outdone.

Marissa threw her a dismissive glance. “I will.”

They left together, talking quietly, their cheeks nearly touching as they leaned into each other. She and Maryanne used to walk like that sometimes. Julie could remember the feel of Maryanne’s hair tickling her neck, the timbre of her voice as they whispered about secret things.

“Ryan said Marissa’s been helping out at the restaurant,” Kirsten commented.

“I didn’t know that,” Julie said, then bit her tongue. Kirsten already thought she was a bad mother. No need to confirm she couldn’t even keep track of what one of her kids was doing.

“It’s coming along amazingly,” Kirsten said as if she hadn’t even noticed. “You should stop by sometime. Jimmy, he’s really in his element. I think he’s found something really special there. I haven’t seen him this excited about something in a long time.”

“I’m sure,” Julie said, not able to entirely control the reflexive snideness. She’d gotten only a few glimpses of Jimmy in the past few weeks, spoken a few short words with him, and she didn’t need Kirsten to tell her that a stupid restaurant was making him happier than she ever had. Disgustingly content, really. It should have been the other way around, she thought resentfully. Jimmy should have been the one struggling, and not just for money. He should have been the one waking up in the middle of the night, second guessing choices, asking unanswerable questions. She should have been the one who landed on her feet, who found a new life, a better life.

“Oh, um,” Kirsten said, flushing. “I didn’t mean—you know I wouldn’t think—“

“I got it. No worries,” Julie said, shrugging.

Kirsten rubbed her forehead. “I think I should stop drinking,” she said, resting her forehead on her fingertips for a moment. “It’s not even four o’clock yet.” She glanced up, sighing. “I should go interrupt Seth and Summer.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go be the bad guy,” Julie said impulsively.

Kirsten grinned. “Well, you volunteered. I’ll be in the restroom.”

The tiles of the entry hall were cool on Julie’s bare feet as she padded over to the stairs and began to climb. She’d always loved this house, envied the extra couple hundred square feet, the pool, the slightly better view. Her own house felt oddly unfitting nowadays, both too big and too small with only herself and Caitlyn living there. She’d considered moving more and more in recent weeks, but she’d been in that house for a long time, and the thought of leaving it was unsettling.

She paused at the head of the stairs, unsure of her direction, then followed the quiet hum of Summer’s voice down the hall. The shimmery, transparent wrap Summer had been wearing over her swimsuit hung from a doorknob on her right, and Julie approached quietly, peeking through the crack in the door. She couldn’t see Seth Cohen, but Summer was perfectly framed as she sat on the edge of a desk, bare legs swinging.

“Why don’t you just stay over there for a while, Cohen,” she was saying, tilting her head and smiling sweetly. “You can just watch for a bit.”

She reached back, flipping her loose hair over her shoulders, then released the clasp on her halter bikini top. It fell away, and she cupped her own breasts, making small, self-satisfied sounds as she gently fingered her nipples. She leaned back farther on the desk, her legs falling apart, only her tiny black and white bikini bottoms interrupting the smooth line of her body. Her skin was a delicate, beginning of the summer tan all over, and Julie knew she must tan in the nude, and not in a salon, either. She could imagine that, Summer on a lounger in her backyard, glistening with sun tan lotion, turning to let the light find the pale insides of her thighs, the full underswell of her breasts. She and Maryanne had done that a few times, lain out together on a deserted beach, laughed nervously about being found as they toasted themselves a warm brown all over.

Summer moaned softly and ran her hands down her body, from breasts to hips, up and down again. She moved fluidly, easily into her own caresses, almost animal in her instinctive self-pleasuring and self-appreciation. She lifted one leg, hooked the knee over the back of the desk chair, cupped one hand over the tiny triangle of cloth between her thighs. Julie could see her sliding her fingers beneath it, almost furtively, then pulling them back out to stroke herself through the fabric.

Seth Cohen made a low, impatient sound from somewhere else in the room, and Julie jumped as if struck. She’d forgotten that he was there at all.

“What?” Summer asked, lifting her head. “Do you want me to take this off or something?” She shifted forward, lifted both legs, and shimmied out of the bottoms with her thighs spread wide. She was already touching herself as the scrap of cloth hit the floor, one finger then two slipping inside. She leaned back again, slowly fingering herself with one hand, letting the other play over her own body, plucking at a nipple, tracing the faint line of dark hair from her belly button to her bush, running light fingers up the inside of her thigh. Julie watched, her mouth dry, something low in her belly stuttering to life with an old, forgotten burn. Summer made small, pleased mewing sounds as she pushed her fingers deeper, and jumped as if electrified every time the thumb of her other hand dipped between her legs to touch her clit.

“Cohen,” she said breathily. “You can move now.”

Julie turned hastily away, her legs trembling and her face burning. She didn’t want to see them fuck.

She hurried back down the hall, then paused at the head of the stairs, clutching at the railing with unsteady hands. She bent over a little, catching her breath as if she had just run a race. God fucking damn it. The thought exploded into her mind, completely uncontrollable now, irrepressible. She wondered how different her life would be today if she’d reacted differently that night when Maryanne slipped from her sleeping bag on the floor into bed with her, if she’d be happ—

God damn Kirsten, anyway. Julie straightened up, clamping down on the shakes with an iron will. She didn’t need this. Not now. Not ever. But she did need another drink.


End file.
